<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>in the palm of your freezing hand by radialarch</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208685">in the palm of your freezing hand</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/pseuds/radialarch'>radialarch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:29:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,605</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208685</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/pseuds/radialarch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want to be sure that I understand your plan," Dimitri says after a moment. "You've given your Great-Aunt this, ah, misapprehension—"</p><p>"If you knew her, you'd understand—"</p><p>"And you'd like me to further deceive your aged relation by pretending to court you at the Ball."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>2020 Dimilix Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in the palm of your freezing hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancywaffles/gifts">fancywaffles</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Waffles! I set out to write you a fake dating fic, and, well, this is not NOT a fake dating fic. Look, these two are very in love.</p><p>A note that there's a fair bit of discussion of political marriages that occasionally also touches on compulsory heterosexuality.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I need your help with something," Felix says. He's been looking hunted for the past half hour. Dimitri wondered when he'd crack. "It's stupid, you can't laugh."</p><p>"I wouldn't dare," Dimitri says, putting down his cloth and oil. "Please, go on."</p><p>Felix levels a suspicious glare at him, but Dimitri's had a lot of practice putting on a concerned face. In the end Felix sighs and says, "You know my Great-Aunt."</p><p>"Oh, which one?" Felix has several, some more politic than others. One that Dimitri remembers vividly from childhood, who'd pinched his cheeks at a function and pronounced, "A little delicate, but he'll do." Lambert had roared with laughter at that.</p><p>Felix scowls down at his sword. "Valeria."</p><p>"Ah, so not Leticia," Dimitri says.</p><p>"She's <em>worse</em> than Great-Aunt Leticia."</p><p>Dimitri winces. "My condolences," he says. "Go on."</p><p>"She's been trying to foist eligible maidens onto me for years. She claims it's her duty to the family."</p><p>Dimitri tries to swallow the tickle of laughter in his throat. "I see," he says, as solemnly as he can. "What a commendable effort."</p><p>"She's a busybody," Felix says, and wipes off the blade of his sword with unnecessary venom. "It's her hobby, I'm just the only one left."</p><p>"And have you found any of these, er, maidens worth your—?"</p><p>The look Felix shoots him is one he usually reserves for very stupid nobles. "She's been getting worse since I turned thirty, so I got fed up and told her that I like men and I wasn't going to fuck any of the women she might dig up."</p><p>Dimitri had some idea about Felix's inclinations, but hearing Felix lay it out so baldly is still a shock. "Ha," he says faintly. "In those words?"</p><p>"Exactly." Felix slides his sword back into its sheath. Vexation has tinged his cheeks pink. "She told me I was a disgrace, I told her she could go hang, we reached what I thought was a rather pleasant impasse."</p><p>"I sense that this situation did not continue."</p><p>"No." Felix exhales violently, then pushes his fingers through his hair. "This year, she informed me that though the pickings are quite slim now, which is all my fault, she has nonetheless graciously curated a list of eligible bachelors which I may peruse at my leisure."</p><p>Dimitri can't help it; he laughs.</p><p>"It's <em>not funny</em>," Felix hisses. "I thought that would make her stop!"</p><p>"I— apologize." Dimitri's still wheezing. Felix's outraged expression, the horror in his voice: Dimitri hasn't seen him like this in years. These days people are so overawed by Felix's reputation that they tread lightly around him. "That's very— good of your Great-Aunt. Would you like help picking a name?"</p><p>"If you're not going to take this seriously—"</p><p>"Oh, terribly seriously, I assure you," Dimitri manages, though it's a long moment before he can catch his breath. "But I don't see where I come in."</p><p>That's Dimitri's mistake. A cleverer general would not have left his flank so open. But the afternoon had been long and lazy, and Dimitri had retrieved a new longsword from the armory to watch Felix's fingers curl covetously around the hilt. He does not get many opportunities to lower his guard, as king; he takes the chances he's given.</p><p>"Well, I told her I was too busy with you to bother with her list," Felix says. "I didn't expect her to take me literally."</p><p>"Hm?" says Dimitri.</p><p>"My Great-Aunt has formed the impression that we're courting," Felix says. "And she was so overjoyed by the news she's decided she'll be coming to Fhirdiad for the Winter Ball."</p>
<hr/><p>For the sake of privacy, they relocate to Dimitri's private study. Once inside, Felix drops into an armchair before Dimitri does and presses a forearm over his eyes. "I just wanted her to stop annoying me," he says. "I didn't want <em>this</em>."</p><p>"Have you never considered— that is, I mean, you could simply marry," Dimitri suggests. "If any of the knights have drawn your eye, for example."</p><p>Felix only gives Dimitri a blank stare. "What are you <em>talking</em> about," he says. "What knight?"</p><p>"Well, I assumed—" Felix would never tolerate a partner who could not hold his own with a sword. "Never mind. It just seemed the simplest solution to your problem."</p><p>"It won't be a problem for long," Felix says. "She's ancient, it's only a matter of time."</p><p>"Felix!"</p><p>"In the end the Goddess takes us all," Felix intones, without a hint of shame. "I just need to get through the Ball."</p><p>"I want to be sure that I understand your plan," Dimitri says after a moment. "You've given your Great-Aunt this, ah, misapprehension—"</p><p>"If you knew her, you'd understand—"</p><p>"And you'd like me to further deceive your aged relation by pretending to court you at the Ball."</p><p>Felix is sitting up now, heated, hair falling loose from his customary pins. Fondness grips Dimitri's chest. "Well, of course you'd see it like <em>that</em>—"</p><p>"I accept," Dimitri says.</p><p>"—but you won't have to— what?"</p><p>"The Winter Ball is enormously dull," Dimitri says, like a secret, though Felix has complained about this exact thing many times. "This promises to be a pleasant diversion. Will you actually introduce me to your Great-Aunt? She sounds like a wonderfully determined woman."</p><p>For a moment, Felix looks torn between thanks and outrage. Being Felix, it takes him very little time to settle on the latter. "'Wonderfully determined'?" he sputters. "She's a stubborn old fool."</p><p>"Mm." Dimitri nods. "It must run in the family."</p><p>"You—!"</p><p>Felix gets to his feet so he can glower at Dimitri from above. Dimitri laughs until there are tears in his eyes.</p>
<hr/><p>"So that's your Great-Aunt." The steward has arranged the seating for the feast perfectly; Dimitri can catch a glimpse of a fierce old woman past the delegation from Bergliez when he shifts slightly to the left. She has Felix's nose—or rather, Felix has hers, he supposes. "I do hope she's enjoying the festivities. We must go say hello to her after the dance."</p><p>"You're enjoying this too much," Felix mutters. He's picking restlessly at his plate, too preoccupied in watching the hall. "Stop that, it's suspicious."</p><p>Dimitri pries a piece of pickled rabbit off his skewer and deposits it onto Felix's plate. "Enjoying myself at a function is suspicious?"</p><p>"Of course it is," Felix snaps. "Everyone knows you hate these. You get that pinched look and leave after the second dance." He spears the meat on his fork viciously; Dimitri slides him another and contemplates this.</p><p>"I don't hate the Winter Ball," he says, though it's true he finds it boring much of the time. "It's a worthy tradition, meant to foster unity among the people—"</p><p>"So some noble family can snag you with the right daughter, you mean," Felix says, contemptuous. "They've been trying since you were ten. Have you decided on a partner for First Dance? That girl from Mateus, she's been looking at you all evening. Or there's the Ochs, at least that one's got the brains not to stare. And the optics would be better. You wanted post-war unity, now's your chance." Felix stops, the color high on his face, and blinks down at his plate. "What are you doing? Eat your meat."</p><p>"It's the one you like," Dimitri says, but slips the next chunk into his own mouth. "I didn't realize you objected so strongly to the Ball." Felix's general disdain for petty politicking, of course, is well-known, but the Winter Ball had always struck Dimitri as rather harmless. A feast and a dance, and El taught him how to escape the dance with his dignity intact. "I do think you're being unfair."</p><p>Felix slams his goblet down. "<em>I'm</em> being unfair?"</p><p>"The daughters aren't at fault for their family's ambitions." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the servers preparing to bring out the glittering ice-and-spun-sugar sculptures. Small blossoms, delicately plated for the children; a rearing pegasus, with wide staring eyes and each pinion distinct. Some enterprising mage has lit a breathtaking replica of Fhirdiad Castle from within, so warm firelight spills out from the ice-pane windows. Dimitri joins in the clapping with genuine enthusiasm. "Come, now, that was well done," he tells Felix as the roar dies down. "You might show some appreciation, at least. You know my staff holds you in high esteem."</p><p>"Is that what they tell you?" Felix snorts. "They're just trying to get in your good graces." Absently, he shoves his plate of sweet buns into Dimitri's elbow. They're sticky, warm, lightly glazed. Dimitri eats one. "I shudder to imagine the amount of sugar involved."</p><p>"No, you've never liked that." Dimitri can no longer taste the sweetness, but grains of sugar prickle over his tongue, then dissolve; the sensation is quite pleasant. "Do you remember your fifth birthday?" Rodrigue had sent for chocolate all the way from Morfis, at Felix's insistence. Felix had torn off the golden foil and swallowed a square, nearly whole, then promptly thrown up. Dimitri remembers Glenn laughing, picking Felix up in his arms, and Rodrigue wearily parceling out the chocolate to the guests after Felix refused to eat any more. It had melted in Dimitri's mouth, slow and silky. He hasn't thought about that in a long time.</p><p>Felix's ears go red. "No," he says. "Stop talking."</p><p>"But Felix, then how will I ask you for the First Dance?"</p><p>They're bringing out the unity tableau, the roaring lion and the eagle, the cool crystal of the deer's antlers. Felix waits out the thunderous applause and says, "<em>What</em>?"</p><p>"It would be rather callous of me to court you and then dance with another," Dimitri points out. "I don't wish to look a cad in front of your Great-Aunt."</p><p>"Seiros, will you take this seriously?" Felix sounds in real distress. "What's gotten into you? Leicester will be revolting tomorrow."</p><p>"Aren't you always complaining about the inefficiency of the Council? It will take a week, at least." Dimitri eats another sweet bun. Felix is right about one thing: the First Dance is political. His father and mother had met the same way.</p><p>Dimitri has no doubt his father was fond of his mother. But he had not, Dimitri thinks, loved her—not the way he loved Patricia. Such is the way of kings.</p><p>Well, let Felix call him a fool all he wants. Surely Dimitri has, in the course of his life, earned the right to be one for a night.</p><p>"It's my birthday," he says. As a child he took the timing of the Winter Ball as an unfortunate coincidence; now he knows better. "Will you deny me the chance to dance with whom I wish?"</p><p>Felix looks pained. "Stop doing that."</p><p>"Doing what?"</p><p>"The—thing. With your face."</p><p>"I'm not doing anything," Dimitri says.</p><p>Felix scoffs and looks away. In the light of the hall, the line of his profile is lovely. "I don't know the steps," he says after a moment. "It won't work."</p><p>Triumph in Dimitri's mouth, in his heart. "You don't need to," he promises. "I'll lead you."</p>
<hr/><p>There are murmurs when Dimitri steps down onto the floor with Felix's hand in his, but Felix fixes a glare at the musicians, who start up with haste. Dimitri must apologize to them later—or thank them, possibly.</p><p>This close, Felix must tilt his head up to meet Dimitri's eye. Dimitri often forgets that, when the force of his personality is so immense. But he's standing stiff and still now as Dimitri fits his hand to the small of Felix's back. "It's not unlike sparring," he advises, and hides a smile at Felix's look of reluctant interest. "You've done plenty of footwork drills."</p><p>"Not while—holding another person," Felix growls. "Why are you so tall?"</p><p>"It was not intentional, I assure you," Dimitri says gravely. "Shall we begin?"</p><p>Felix puts his hand on Dimitri's shoulder, gingerly like it might hurt him. "Just— get it over with," he sighs. "You've already committed to making a spectacle."</p><p>Dimitri has never enjoyed himself at a ball more. He starts slow, coaxing Felix along the four-step pattern. It's quite like leading a skittish colt out into pasture. Felix's eyes flicker over Dimitri's chest, past his shoulder, up and away from Dimitri's face. He's biting his lip in concentration, which is unaccountably charming. "Now we repeat," he says. "It's not unlike the third parrying form."</p><p>"In the third parrying form, I'd have a dagger at your throat by the end of it," Felix shoots back immediately, though his steps are already becoming smoother. "You know your close-range work is atrocious. You're too reliant on the lance."</p><p>"The added distance introduces flexibility," Dimitri says. The argument is well-worn between them. "Using sword alone will leave you vulnerable when outnumbered, and your technique depends in large part upon your Crest."</p><p>"Oh, like yours doesn't." Felix jabs at Dimitri's chest; returns the hand to his shoulder. He has the rhythm of the pattern now, so Dimitri introduces a variation. "I've seen you run someone through with a lance-shaft after you snapped it, you brute. No finesse whatsoever."</p><p>"I don't know, I seem to be doing all right with you." There's a small lift here. Dimitri has to tighten his grip on Felix's waist through the turn. Felix helps by relaxing into it, instead of pulling away. The exertion has left a touch of color on Felix's face, and it makes his eyes glow. Dimitri spends so much of his days being careful, of his strength and his position. But Felix doesn't demand that of him. He's never needed it.</p><p>"Don't try to take credit." Felix is smiling too hard to feign outrage properly; Dimitri catches a glimpse of his throat, his laughing mouth. "I know how to handle you, that's all."</p><p>Felix's eyes, crinkling at the corners, and the weight of his hand pressed into Dimitri's palm, a gift. Dimitri loves him endlessly. Wants to keep the fragment of his smile, tucked warm against his heart. He bends toward it to capture it, helpless as a flower.</p><p>The music stops. Felix stops.</p><p>The corner of Felix's mouth gleams. The rest of him is a frigid line. "What are you doing?" he says. "That's not funny."</p><p>Dimitri's own lips are tingling. He has kissed Felix's mouth, and Felix is prying himself out of Dimitri's grasp with an animal desperation. "I did not," Dimitri croaks, "I did not intend—" and sees a wild blotchy flush sweep over Felix's face.</p><p>"I see," Felix says. Then he steps back—turns—leaves.</p>
<hr/><p>Someone's guiding Dimitri away from the floor, toward a sheltered corner of the hall. Ingrid, in her ceremonial armor. People back away as she marches them both through, though whispers still follow in their footsteps.</p><p>"I know you hate the Ball," says Ingrid, shoving him into a chair, "but this is a mess."</p><p>"I don't hate the Ball," Dimitri says. There's a dull ache building behind his missing eye. "It's only tedious, and I think some of the funds might be better spent—"</p><p>"You hate the Ball," says Ingrid. "It takes you a week to recover from it every year."</p><p>Across the hall, Sylvain is leaning down to talk to one of the musicians. An exchange—presumably of coin—then the band hastily launches into a merry tune. Dimitri watches with detached curiosity as Mercedes steps down onto the dance floor, followed by—</p><p>"Is that Annette?" Dimitri says.</p><p>The figure wobbles, clutching desperately at Mercedes. Ingrid winces. "Looks like it."</p><p>"They're—dancing," Dimitri says blankly. Well. They're trying. Grace was never Annette's strong suit.</p><p>Mercedes seems to be bearing gamely on. Ingrid says, almost softly, "You looked happy tonight."</p><p>"I was," Dimitri groans. "I've never enjoyed myself more. Goddess, I've made a mess of things."</p><p>"Well," says Ingrid. "Nothing that can't be mended, I think." She gestures at the dance floor, slowly beginning to fill. Annette giggling into Mercedes's shoulder, Ashe still in his captain's uniform, Dedue—Dedue!—imposing and unmistakable. "We can take care of things here."</p><p>"Oh," Dimitri says. "You shouldn't—they're my mistakes."</p><p>"<em>Dimitri</em>," Ingrid says, and she nearly sounds fond. "Go."</p><p>Dimitri opens his mouth. Shuts it. Swallows and says, "Thank you."</p><p>Then he goes to find Felix.</p>
<hr/><p>Felix is not in his chambers, nor the armory. He is nowhere to be found in the main training grounds. Dimitri checks the smaller, private one out of habit, but that too is empty, and Felix's favorite weapons untouched. In desperation, he checks the stables. All the mounts are accounted for, so if Felix has left the castle he has done so on foot. Outside, a thick snow has been falling all evening. Surely Felix is not dressed to brave this weather.</p><p>Sylvain finds Dimitri mulling over this problem, feeding a bit of carrot to the gelding Felix prefers when he's in Fhirdiad. "Your Majesty!" he says, and comes to clap Dimitri on the back. "What a show, eh?"</p><p>"Felix might beg to differ," Dimitri says. "Have you seen him? I wished to apologize, but I cannot seem to find him."</p><p>"Have you checked your study?" Sylvain says. "Apologize for what? I thought you two had this all planned."</p><p>"Planned?" Dimitri blinks. "No, that was— I forgot myself, I'm afraid, and egregiously overstepped."</p><p>"<em>You</em> overstepped?" Sylvain shakes his head. "I don't understand."</p><p>"One of Felix's great-aunts is at the Ball," Dimitri explains. The idea had seemed a delight when Felix was proposing it, but now it sits heavy in his stomach. "He wished to give her an impression that we are— close."</p><p>"Dimitri," Sylvain says slowly. "You do <em>know</em> that Felix is in love with you."</p><p>Dimitri gapes at him. "He is not."</p><p>"He never stops talking about you!"</p><p>"That doesn't—we are friends, certainly, I'm sure he has a, a fondness—"</p><p>"Years," Sylvain remarks, apparently into the air. "<em>Years</em> I've been listening to, <em>Oh, Sylvain, what obscenely expensive sword shall I get for Dimitri this year</em>, and <em>Sylvain, Dimitri sneezed last night, we must move the entire capital down to Enbarr</em>, and we can't forget <em>Is Dimitri eating enough, he was picking at his stew last night, I must speak to the kitchen staff</em>—"</p><p>"But if he—" Dimitri cannot say it. "He has never said anything to me." He recalls Felix, tight with tension, asking about First Dance. Every year he's asked. Every year, Dimitri's picked an inoffensive name from a list, and retired after the first set. "Does he—" Dimitri says with a terrible urgency, "does Felix believe that I do not care for him?"</p><p>Sylvain gives him a measured look. "Do you?"</p><p>Of course he does. Of course. The mistake is not that Dimitri left his heart unguarded. It has been guarded. All along Felix has tended it, with such delicate care, that Dimitri could believe it untouched.</p><p>"I must speak with him," Dimitri breathes, and sets off running.</p><p>"Your study," Sylvain calls behind him. "He likes it there."</p>
<hr/><p>There's a lantern glowing in Dimitri's study, the fireplace lit. Felix does not raise his head from the parchment until he's set it aside to dry.</p><p>"What are you doing?" Dimitri pants. "I've been looking for you."</p><p>"Some thoughts," says Felix. "Prospects for your marriage, the benefits and drawbacks of each choice, and so forth."</p><p>Dimitri can't catch his breath. "My what?"</p><p>Felix clears his throat. "It's become obvious that the Winter Ball is causing you more distress than intended," he says stiffly. "I thought you'd prefer to choose after a chance at conversation, but—" He raises his hands. There's a smudge of ink on the edge of his palm. Has Felix been here since he left the Ball? Since Dimitri pressed their mouths together and found, with some surprise, that there was still some softness in Felix to uncover? The ache under Dimitri's breastbone grows.</p><p>"I don't need a list," says Dimitri, and rounds the desk. Catches Felix's hands, pale with cold, before Felix can run. "I believe I've found a suitable match."</p><p>Only the smallest flinch from Felix. "I'll start the negotiations in the morning."</p><p>"You won't need to wait," Dimitri says, and watches Felix's teeth sink into his lip. "He's here now."</p><p>Understanding strikes Felix first, then fear. "Don't do this," he says. He's twisting away so Dimitri can't see his face, but Dimitri doesn't need it to read him. "You'll change your mind."</p><p>"Do I strike you as so inconstant?" Dimitri says, gentle. "I've tried to keep all my promises to you."</p><p>"It's—it's a bad match." Felix's fingers, wrapping around Dimitri's wrists. Felix's mouth never told the whole truth. "You wanted a nation that would last."</p><p>"It is a bad match," Dimitri agrees. "The Adrestian Houses seek stability. Leicester has been clamoring for relaxed trade restrictions. You would provide neither." United Fódlan is an experiment. Dimitri will not know if it succeeds in his lifetime. "But Felix— has it occurred to you that if we're too afraid of cutting out a new path, then nothing would have changed at all?"</p><p>Felix bends slow, like molten steel; but he bends. When he tugs Dimitri down and captures his mouth it's with a burning ferocity. "You will have it your way, I suppose," he says, as if the rebuke could make up for the way his thigh pushes between Dimitri's. "Don't be so smug. I can <em>feel</em> you smiling."</p><p>Dimitri has no intention of stopping. "You know," he says, a little thoughtful, while Felix leaves bite marks at his throat. "I really must thank your Great-Aunt Valeria."</p><p>"Oh," Felix groans, and tears at Dimitri's collar. "<em>Hang</em> my Great-Aunt!"</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>